Friday, June 19, 2009

I've got a lot of browser windows open but don't have a specific post in mind. As a result, here is a collection of some of the better stuff to come across my Google Reader over the past day or so. This should get you through the afternoon.

That’s what the Lange-Buck collision fascinated me. It was the coming together of two disparate beings—one who sees bullshit in everything and takes joy in exposing it; the other who sees poetry in everything and takes joy in elongating it.

Men like Buck fancy themselves as oral symphonies. Men like Lange fancy themselves as oral rot. Men like Buck take their worlds very seriously. Men like Lange do not. Mike like Buck view humor through a very, very, very narrow prism—self-depreciation, but only to a very slight degree. Mike like Lange view humor without boundaries.

I think he nailed exactly why it was so captivating: You couldnt get two more polar opposites that the uptight holier than thou demeanor of Buck and the irreverant assclownery of Lange. I'd like to think we bring a little of both to the table.

Someone enlighten me why the New York fans love Phil Mickelson, the Alex Rodriguez of golf, but don't like Alex Rodriguez, the Alex Rodriguez of baseball.

I'd love to. If Phil Mickelson played for a theoretcal New York golf franchise called the Longballs or something, people would hate him. It's easy to root for the underdog when the U.S. Open only comes around once in a while. New York fans have no ownership of Mickelson's failures. When he blows it on the final hole at Winged Foot and refers to himself as "an idiot", we can laugh as the lovable loser. When A-Rod strikes out to end the game, it offends the fans ina much more personal way, because his failures are projected directly on them.

There’s no official definition of badass in the Oxford English Dictionary. This is a pity, as badass is one of those universal ways of categorizing the American male species. Everyone employs the term, and its meaning is more or less collectively agreed upon. Like douche bag or asshole, the word badass instantly evokes a recognizable male archetype, one that is impervious to rocket-propelled grenades and enjoys banging waitresses while skydiving.

>8

Do they live up to every romanticized notion of what we think a dude should be? No, they don’t. Think about it. Would a badass ever sit at a desk? No. Badasses do not sit at desks. Badasses get up and do shit. Would a badass ever use a BlackBerry, typing away at those tiny fucking keys like a dipshit princess? No. A badass might use a regular cellphone, if only for angrily shouting instructions to people (“Dammit! There isn’t fucking time! The Russians have the package!”). But never a BlackBerry, that’s for sure.

The column reads a lot like his better Balls Deep columns from Deadspin, except he doesn't try to bring it back to sports. I'm sure some people like Drew for all the creative swearing and dick jokes, but even after to you peel all that back, he's always making connections and genuinely insightful observations on human nature.

When they got near the couple, they realized Brady was not in his kayak, but in the water. Leeds helped pull Brady into a motor boat.

"I actually asked him why he fell in," she said. "He said he was racing one of his friends. It was Tom, Giselle and his friend...so he was racing his friend."

Leeds asked him if she could take a picture with him. She said Tom said, "Of course, you saved my life. ... I talked with Giselle. We talked about how beautiful the weather it was," Leeds said.

And by "motor boat", I'm assuming that Tom Brady shoved his face in between her breasts when he was being rescued. And that Gisele... how deep! "Hey I just saved your husband from drowning...". "Yeah, it's beautiful out, isn't it?"